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Sunday, August 26, 2012

Appointment with Pleasure is my first series for Ellora’s Cave. Book One, Claiming Magique(coming August 31), is scorching hot-hot-hot. The love story is to die for.

Here’s the cover, blurb and a brief excerpt to give you an idea of the heat and romance.

I’m also offering a contest – the tour winner will have her choice of THREE of my backlist ebooks. So, read on!! And leave comments at each of my stops (check my blog daily for details: http://www.tinadonahue.com/blog/ ) for your chance to win! The more comments, the better your chances.

Blurb:

Claiming Magique

Book One – Appointment with Pleasure series

Tina Donahue

A man at the center of power…a woman who won’t be ruled…

They call her Magique.

Sought out by the District’s elite, she’s no ordinary call girl, deciding who will pleasure her for the evening. Her preference is for several men at once. Games of bondage and submission heighten her arousal and desire to have a strong male take her…to be adored.

Lobbyist Hunter Prescott was only looking for a good time, not a woman who unleashes a hunger so deep it changes his world. He won’t stop until Magique is his alone, a prisoner of his lust, powerless against his growing need for her body and heart.

With this man, resistance isn’t allowed. For this woman, he’ll create a world of sensual delight and yearning like none she’s known. Proving that only with trust and true surrender will she find unparalleled rapture.

Excerpt:

Tim and David exchanged a surprised glance.

Hunt continued to regard her, then smiled.

Her heart turned over.

He wore the look of a marauder facing a virginal maiden he’d just captured or a king who’d purchased a new slave. His expression said she belonged to him now. She wouldn’t be free of his lust until she’d sated his lewdest desires. There would be many. And she’d comply without complaint or a moment’s rest until he granted it.

An unspoken protest rose within her, along with a whimper of delight she managed to suppress.

He reached her easily, guiding her to the left post as he pulled off his tie. Its soft swish against his collar and his continuing silence were more exciting than anything he could have said. Taking her wrists, he wrapped the narrowest end of the pale blue silk around them. With a mastery that told her he’d engaged in bondage before, Hunt lifted her arms, securing them to the post. As he worked, the edges of his jacket brushed her naked nipples.

They peaked even more.

Exposed and vulnerable, she could scarcely breathe. A pulse beat hard at the base of her throat and deep within her pussy.

Tim mumbled something indistinct, his tone sounding displeased as he pulled his crimson tie from his collar. David stared at her breasts as he yanked off his shoes, hopping in place to regain his balance.

She expected Hunt to undress so he would win this race to have her.

He didn’t. Unmindful of the others, he ran his hands down the insides of her arms. Tingles dashed up them. She clenched her teeth to keep from making any sound, allowing him to know how much she liked this.

He seemed to realize it without asking, stroking her smooth pits as he regarded them. For a moment, she thought he’d press his face to that part of her and fill himself with her scent. Instead, he cupped her breasts, his long fingers curling around the ripe globes. A moan of delight bubbled up. She fought it. He flicked his thumbs over her nipples.

Jolts of pleasure shot through her. She pushed to her toes, her spike heels leaving the floor.

He smiled again, this one different from his first, though not the smug kind Tim might have given, nor one of innocence as David would have offered. Hunt’s was pure pleasure. The sort a man indulges in when he knows he’s pleased a woman and is certain she wants him as badly as he desires her.

Without thinking, she leaned toward him, using the slack his tie allowed.

He smelled delicious. A heady masculine scent reminiscent of leather and cherry tobacco. What one would find in a men’s club or the seat of power. What a woman craves on a lonely night, along with a man’s musky odor.

Friday, August 17, 2012

Protected federal witness Carlos D’Alejandro and Special Agent Jade Lazlow–Whinton have had a relationship of convenience over the years. Jade’s retired, but when her estranged husband needs her, he uses her attachment to the enigmatic Carlos to lure her back into the field. When she recovers from near-fatal wounds and discovers the deceit, she goes to the one man who will never lie to her. Carlos.

The idyllic Pacific island paradise D’Alejandro calls home is the stuff of fantasy, but it isn’t long before reality knocks on the door and shatters their peace. The news is grim. People they loved have been killed, and these two unlikely lovers are forced to face a truth neither of them has been willing to examine too closely—that their passion is more than intense attraction.

The words were soft but held no discernible emotion. She peered more intently at him, saw the lines that had settled around his eyes and the weariness that emanated from him now, blunting the unmistakable aura of sensuality that was a natural part of his being. She moved slightly, stood at his back and slid her arms around his waist, letting her fingers drift across well-remembered contours, caressing softly as she pressed her cheek to the broad expanse of his back.

“What do you want, Jade?” he repeated, holding her hands still but making no movement to dislodge her from her place behind him. “I know this isn’t social. It never was with you. I seem to have that kind of luck with the women I trust.” The last was said with faint bitterness and she pulled away, taking the step back to his side that would allow her to face him.

“What if I just wanted to see you, Carlos?” she challenged softly. “It could be as simple as that.”

He laughed, and she was enchanted by the low rumble of sound. There was distinct mockery in his voice when he answered. “It could be, but is it?”

She debated a lie, then chose the truth. He not only deserved it, he’d gotten to know her so well she was certain he’d hear the deceit in her voice if she tried to mislead him.

“Yes,” she nodded, then added, “and no, as well.”

He turned his back to the astonishing view and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m waiting,” he prompted after a few moments passed in silence.

“You’re very distracting, Carlos,” she murmured, her gaze drifting over him, drinking in every nuance of his presence. His long legs were slightly spread and the lightweight cotton of his pants was pulled taut across his hips. She knew there was nothing under the pants but bare skin. That knowledge was creating a disturbing lack of focus, as well as a distressing internal trembling. A condition that would soon become an undeniable and visible confirmation of just how deeply his physical presence affected her. And Carlos being Carlos would not overlook the reaction once he’d spotted it.

She dragged her gaze from the endless length of his legs and met his thoroughly amused smile when she faced him again. He reached out and hooked the index finger of his right hand into the strip of material that held her bikini bra together, then he tugged her toward him until she stood between his legs and her eyes were level with his.

“You haven’t answered me,” he observed in a low growl.

Her gaze dropped to his hands and she stared in helpless fascination as his thumbs glided along the sides of her breasts while his splayed fingers held her firmly where he wanted her. The circles of motion expanded slowly, sensually until—finally—the pads of his thumbs brushed a feathery stroke over the rigid, thrusting tips of her nipples, clearly outlined by the thin white nylon of her bikini top.

“What was the question?” she murmured, the query disintegrating into a gasp of erotic pleasure when he bent forward and closed his teeth on one hard bud. The pressure of his tongue made the material between them even more irrelevant. She kissed the top of his head and her arms went around his neck, pressing him tighter to her. “God, Carlos, that feels incredible!” She was talking to him about what was happening as it happened, she thought with a flicker of irony. This was the only man she’d ever known who asked her what she wanted, what she liked and how she liked it. Then he’d given her everything she needed and more. All the time making her talk to him as they shared their passion.

The catch on the bikini top was opened with a careless flick of his fingers and he smiled as he pulled back to look at her. The bikini didn’t fall away, her fully bared skin still hidden from his sight until he decided to peel aside the material. He watched her, challenge in his dark eyes, making no further move until he was sure she wanted him to continue.

“What do you want?” he purred softly. “That was the question, honey.”

She traced the fullness of his lips with her fingertip and smiled when he sucked the slender digit deep into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, licking suggestively.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

That’s quite the attention getter, isn’t it? I’ve been walking in this strange grey area for a few months now, and every time I think I’ve cleared the crazy away, someone decides it’s not over yet. We meet a lot of people in our lives, on the streets and online, but it’s the online ones who appear to be the most likely to really try to tear your life apart. I don’t know why the “protection” of a computer makes people braver than they’d ever be face to face, but it does have that effect.

Some of you have followed the saga that began with a role-play group earlier this year, and ended in lawyers and police and insanity of a special kind. It’s still carrying on, believe it or not–the new partner, apparently, doesn’t believe in letting anyone escape if they come out better than her. Oh well… Guess what? It’s happened. Now crawl back under your rock and stay there! I’ve spoken to the sociopathic object of your affection again, we are DONE. No need to inbox nasty, perverted messages, then scream you were hacked… just leave it to hell alone and get on with your plotting against someone else before you are arrested for the threats you’ve made.

Obsession… it’s been played as romantic over the years by some, and tragic by others. Obsession is in vogue at the moment because of Fifty Shades of Grey. Obsession is dangerous, and it expands and effects every life you touch when you are caught in the throes of it and can’t escape. Sometimes we don’t really want to escape, of course, not until we’re shown that obsession is part of the player’s stock in trade.

I’m going to forego long detail here, and cut right to the chase. After nine months, most of the puzzle pieces have been put in place. Professional people have used the words “con man” and others have said “sociopath” in loud, clear voices. My personal opinion having spoken to a couple of fellow victims is there’s a little of both at play. Hey, you know me, I put it out there–I’ve been conned by a world-class sociopath, and this is me admitting it to you. Even as I type the words part of me is whispering, but what if you’re wrong? What if he is tragic and tormented? Which of course simply proves how damn good he is, because even with the proof in front of me, I still want to believe him.

IF there was a chance of being wrong, I dismissed it when his last victim came to me and told me in great detail what had been said to her and done to her–and guess what? Word for word what was said to me! No man loves any two women exactly the same way, unless he’s conning them all… the words and the responses change–it’s called being an individual, isn’t it? Hell, as writers we don’t even write the heroes as carbon copies of each other. I’m sure there’s truth somewhere in the narrative he spews, but for someone who preaches religiously about truth and trust, he lies more easily than he breathes… and that’s been proven a hundred times in the past two months, and not just to me.

The definition of sociopath is this:

Antisocial Personality Disorder is also known as psychopathy or sociopathy. Individuals with this disorder have little regard for the feeling and welfare of others. As a clinical diagnosis it is usually limited to those over age 18. It can be diagnosed in younger people if the they commit isolated antisocial acts and do not show signs of another mental disorder.

Antisocial Personality Disorder is chronic, beginning in adolescence and continuing throughout adulthood. There are ten general symptoms:

ALL good con men have to have at least sociopathic tendencies or they’d never be able to pull their shit. The magic of the internet has created a world-wide garden of opportunity for men and women like these. Ands, those who love honestly and openly are always the best victims, they care with a genuineness that strokes the ego of the con artist. In many cases, once the con is over and Mr./Ms. Wonderful vanishes, the wounds are so deep some will never recover or trust again. That’s the real tragedy, that the truth has been mutated by lies and will always be a source of pain and imprisonment, instead of freedom. For me, I can’t live in a self-imposed prison, I do know the truth of who I am, and who he is… I pity him, he lost much more than he gained.

Karma… everyone talks about it, and I’m not sure I believe in it, but time will prove or disprove that one. My karma, if you wish to call it that, knows well what the truth is… and every move made to silence that truth simply adds to the evidence of what really has happened here. Sociopaths have no conscience, they move from one victim to the next and never admit that they’re the one creating the agony they leave in their wake. If you’ve been the victim of betrayal and pain, spreading it out to the innocent people who might have loved you better and forever is not the way to heal your wounds. Becoming an abuser and a predator just makes you worse than what was done to you.

So, to all who are reading this, tread carefully. Good luck and good love…

*The Phoenix image used in this post was found via Google, and is meant only to be a symbolic impression here. No copyright infringement is intended.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

I’m going to make this a short post, but it will touch on a few important things that have become prevalent recently. Up until two years ago, I’d never heard of a writer calling themselves a role-player. When the first one waltzed across the wall of my Facebook profile, I admit I was intrigued by the way in which these people brought book characters to life with such ease, and how entertaining they were while they did it. It took less than four months for me to become disenchanted. Guilt by association seems to be a genuine threat to “real” people who end up friends with many role-play people.

Many of you know I have dabbled a little with the concept of role-play, have even written in groups with a friend. It was fun, and I do understand the allure and appeal. If this is how you want to write, then by all means enjoy it and have fun. What’s happened in recent months is a progression of really ugly personal shit being propagated by several players who seem to think the fake profiles allow them to strike out, lie and shit-disturb with impunity. Again, I really don’t care who you are or what you think you are achieving when you choose to strike out and manipulate or use the people who really do believe you are their friend. Hell, I’ve been on the receiving end of the biggest joke of them all–I fell in love with someone who might very well be a woman using a male identity to hide behind in real-life as well as on the pages of Facebook. Do I care? Not anymore. Like everything else associated with all of this, it’s a closed chapter, and life moves on.

However, it might be prudent for the role-players to bear in mind that if you engage in posting blatant lies about publishing companies and contract violations, etc., you are opening yourselves and your friends to legal action of a serious nature. Watching what goes on in other people’s groups, screen-capping discussions, copying and pasting conversations…at the end of the day, none of it proves a thing. Screen captures are images, and the court recognizes that all images can be manipulated by a talented graphic artist. Copy and paste is the same, it can be manipulated. In most cases, nothing contained in such “evidence” is worth the time it takes to collect it anyway. The writing you all do, and some of you are very talented and creative, it’s your work–but you have to accept that at any time the author who owns the copyrights can demand that you cease and desist. Some do, and some don’t, others just accept the impossibility of policing social networks and forums to stop infringements, so they turn blind eyes to it all.

I’ve seen and read some wild accusations recently–and I have no clue where the source of these fictions find the information they’re reporting. I do know that if you want to have any peace and credibility as writers and as decent human beings, you really need to stop preying on the real people who extend their trust to you. I’ve even been told recently that lesser known authors go to role-players and BEG to write with them, then go insane with threats when they can’t get their own way. Hell, I have no clue if it’s true or not–and again, I don’t much care. Do you see the theme here? I’ve been attacked, lied to, lied about, threatened, stalked, etc., and guess what? I continue to write and build my career, and at the end of each day, I know who I am and what my goals are, as well as who is real in my life now.

Role-players–if you truly DO respect the creators of the worlds in which you play, honour them with good writing and pleasant fan interaction so they in turn will not shudder or get angry when they hear the words “role-player” ascribed to their characters. I can’t speak for any other author, and don’t presume to, but I will say this–I am done with all of it. I want no players on my pages, and no further contact with those I once thought were real friends through our writing together in this kind of format. When a situation escalates to the extent that you must contact police, sit down and consult with lawyers, and hire publicists, move websites, etc., things have gotten to the extremely out of control stage. I’ve had to do all of these things within the past two months. Why? If this goes on, what does anyone get out of it? Nothing at all. Only more aggravation and inflammatory hate being spread into cyberspace.

It’s well past time for calm, sane thought, and honest reality. This is me walking away from this crazy for the final time. In the middle of a stress-induced black-out at the end of May I almost committed suicide over the insanity that had erupted from role-play and the lies I’d been told, as well as the manipulation and humiliation being directed at me. It took me days to find some clarity. It’s taken me two months to find the strength and control to start looking ahead, not back. I wish no one ill-will, and I have no capacity for hate so none is levelled at those who were involved in what’s gone on over the past couple of months. Again, I simply want to be left out of this world of make-believe in future, and respectfully ask that you cease and desist in your efforts to involve me in whatever wrongs you feel have been or are being perpetrated against you.